


Swipe Right

by endlesstalesofwonder



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Accidents Happen, Flight Delays, Gay Panic, M/M, Malec, One Shot, Tinder, alec lightwood and pure gay panic, meet cute, swipe left, swipe right, waiting in an airport
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 21:56:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17373965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endlesstalesofwonder/pseuds/endlesstalesofwonder
Summary: While waiting for his flight, Alec opened his phone to the one page that had a single app waiting in the center: Tinder.





	Swipe Right

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings! I found this prompt somewhere on Tinder and decided: What the hell? Besides, it's been a while since I've posted anything.

Alec would never admit to his slight fear of flying — even if threatened to do so. Statistically, one was more likely to die in a car accident than a plane crash, but there was something about being in the air depending on men he’s never actually seen beyond the wall of flight attendants with too-tight smiles and precisely positioned scarves.

His flight being delayed several hours does nothing to ease the increasing pressure pooling in his chest at the thought of something else going on. Something  _ wrong. _

Alec picks a spot within sight of his gate yet far enough away to avoid any sick children or angry elders. The ceiling tilted slightly to accommodate for the stairs at his back, the patter of constant footsteps grounding him. 

The first hour passes painfully. Alec distracts himself with the people passing by and those sitting around him. A younger woman, probably a college student, sat by the window with her head down and headphones caging her ears. Every so often she would move, stretching a leg or rolling her shoulder as though the stiff posture didn’t actually bother her. The woman two seats beside her, clearly in her late thirties, was trying to calm her child. Her red hair was pinned up tight and neat, and something in the way that her child was screaming his head off said that the rest of her life was just as controlled. An older gentleman sat in a row by himself. He caught Alec scanning the crowd and tipped his head in acknowledgment. He stopped watching after that.

The second hour, he distracts himself with his phone. Facebook only offers him so much comfort before the waves of political posts makes him close the app and press fingers to the bridge of his nose. He keeps his sister updated with the flight status. She stops replying since the time difference between California and New York is jarring. He doesn’t know how he’s awake.

At the beginning of the third hour, he plugs in his phone and admits defeat. He checks for any new messages — none — then slides over to the page that has a single app resting in the center: Tinder. His sister was the one to download it and make an account for the sheer boredom that was inevitable in an airport. Alec never really swiped right anyone for the sake of hooking up, but for the rush that came when he matched with someone else. 

The airport dating pool is nothing to get excited over — the fact that someone may be there that has seen  _ Alec  _ is. He swipes left, keeping a constant pace that included giving a brief check at the first photo in the series, their name, maybe the bio, and then move on. He keeps going until his finger stutters and his brain stops.

The man is  _ gorgeous.  _ Alec knows he should close the app and continue looking later, but he can’t seem to pull his eyes away. The first image is him looking straight into the camera. A loose maroon shirt pours over his shoulders, allowing a gap to open down the center of his chest to reveal layers of necklaces and chains.

He doesn’t know what else to do but to look at the other pictures too. The second is of the man — Alec glances down at the name,  _ Magnus —  _ eyeballing something on a spoon that looks as horrid as something Alec has made before. It’s funny. Alec cracks a smile and looks at the third.

Alec’s half a second away from dropping his phone. To say that it’s a flattering image wouldn’t do it justice. It’s Magnus, facing away from the camera, posing with his thumbs pointed at his back. Alec follows his fingers, imagining himself standing there behind the camera, from his hair to his shoulders and down his back to where the fabric falls over his curves in the just the right way and Alec can’t help but to want his hands there too — Alec panics and swipes left.

“That one’s no good, huh?”

Alec drops his phone and jerking around to the sound of someone behind him — someone  _ spying  _ on him —

“Fuck,” is the first thing out of his lips.

_ Magnus.  _ It’s Magnus. At the airport. Watching him  _ swipe left  _ on his profile. He’s knelt on the stairs with an arm over one knee and his arm extended to the sprawled bag on his side. There’s a glint to his eyes that the pictures don’t quite capture entirely —

“I’m not offended. Happens all the time. None that I’ve witnessed, however.”

“I panicked,” is the second thing he says, and Alec wishes his brain would just  _ catch up with the program.  _ “Do you — Can I start over?”

Magnus chuckles and grabs ahold of his bag, fastening the strap over his shoulder before standing. “Sure thing, pretty boy.”

All of the moisture leaves Alec’s body and leaves him in a pile of dust. Magnus takes his sweet time coming over, but it’s all too fast. Alec’s still gaping on the floor when tailored shoes stand before him.

“I’m —”

_ “Flight 212 is now boarding. Passengers who need assistance —” _

Magnus snaps his fingers. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to cut this short.”

“You’re on this flight?”

Magnus flicks his ticket up between two fingers, as though it was magic that summoned them there. The same flight number sat in the corner of the sheet, paired with the neighboring seat to Alec.

“Of course,” he sighs, then stands. “I’m on this flight too.”

Magnus’ eyes light up and Alec could easily get on the plane so long as he was there. “It seems to be your lucky day.”

“Alec,” he offers, and Magnus smiles.

“It’s nice to meet you, Alec, officially.”

Alec shoulders his computer bag and walks alongside Magnus to their designated loading area according to row and seat number. When it’s their time to walk down the ramp, shuffle towards their seats, and finally rest in anticipation of their take-off, Alec turns to Magnus, who’s enchanted by the scattering men on the runway, and says, “I’d totally swipe right, by the way.”

Magnus laughs. “Me too, Alec. Me too.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Check me out over on Tumblr: endlesstalesofwonder.


End file.
